


Hair Swoop: The Origin Story

by Talizora



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, Ficlet, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Setlock Fix-It Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 12:16:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8327494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talizora/pseuds/Talizora
Summary: What follows is my attempt to cope with John's sudden hairstyle change, the raw edges of the drug overdose in TAB and my desperate aching need for Sherlock and John to talk about their feelings.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've rated this ficlet as Mature due to language and discussion of drug use.

They’d dropped Mary off at their garden flat before going together back to 221B. After Sherlock’s announcement about Moriarty he’d not said another word. John was fuming, he was  _ so  _ angry with Sherlock.  _ How could he? How could he do that? Had he been trying to kill himself? _

Sherlock pulled up in the taxi zone out front of Baker Street and climbed out, John - as always - followed after. John paused in the entrance way and watched Sherlock as he bounded up the stairs with his usual enthusiasm.  _ Bastard _ . Sherlock was already opening his laptop and rearranging things on the table when John stepped into the room. Enough was enough, it was time for some answers.

“Sherlock Holmes you are going to explain to me, in great detail, exactly what you thought you were doing on that plane.” John’s fists clenched at his sides.

“John?” Sherlock looked up, puzzled. “You really want to do this now?”

“I’ve had about all I can take, I want an explanation, I want a reason, Sherlock for all this!” John gestured vaguely towards Sherlock. 

“Alright. I needed to run an experiment-”   
  
“Bollocks. That’s a load of bullshit and you know it. Mycroft said you were high before you got on that godforsaken plane.”

Sherlock’s jaw tightened, “I really don’t think this is relevant, Moriarty-”

“I don’t care about Moriarty, or Mary-” Sherlock took a breath to interrupt but John glared, “or whatever her real name is. I honestly don’t care, right now all I want to know is… Why? Why did you do it?” John had to clear his throat as a lump gathered.

“J-John… I…” Sherlock looked lost and the two of them just stared at each other for a long time before John let out a monstrous sigh and collapsed into his red chair. 

“Just… The truth, please? For once?”

Sherlock nodded, braced himself and took a deep breath. “I started using again after the wedding.”

“Jesus.”

“I’m sorry, I know I could have called… You, Molly, Lestrade… Hell even Mrs Hudson, but I couldn’t. When you found me, it wasn’t just for Magnussen, it wasn’t even the first time. I…” Sherlock hesitated and breathed out slowly.

“You left early…” John mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face. “I should have known… You bloody left and I…”

Sherlock took an abortive step towards John, then looked away and turned his back towards his friend. “You’re smarter than most people John, you're right. The first time… Was after I left. I couldn’t… I couldn’t hold it together after that. You don’t understand, the way my brain works… It kept going, deducing, connecting the dots projecting your life… With Mary. I needed the silence.”

“Empty your pockets.”

Sherlock turned back to John, not sure he’d heard correctly, “Sorry, what?”

John stood up and roughly grabbed the small side-table beside his chair, tipping it none-too-gently and letting the newspaper and crystal ashtray Sherlock had stolen from Buckingham palace slid off onto the floor. “Empty your pockets, now. All of them.”

“John?”

“Do it!” John snapped. 

Sherlock stared at John for a long time before he started pulling items out from his belstaff, his phone, keys, his kit of utensils, his magnifying glass, a small pocket knife were all laid out on the small round table between them. 

“All of them Sherlock.” 

Sherlock hesitated before he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out two packets of disposable hypodermic needles and two tiny glass vials. His hands shook and he gently laid them down next to his phone. 

“And the others, I’m not stupid you know I read the list.”

Sherlock’s eyes burned, his mouth felt like it was full of cotton. He’d done this hundreds of times with Mycroft and Lestrade but someone seeing John’s face, doing this in front of John was so much worse. Sherlock reached his hands into his trouser pockets and pulled out two more vials. 

John reached forward and turned the vials so he could read the labels. “This… You were trying to… You thought you wouldn’t come back?” 

“Mycroft estimated I wouldn’t last six months….”

John laughed bitterly, “Six months? With all this you’d be lucky to last half an hour.”

“I know.” Sherlock looked down at his shoes and sniffed. The two stood together in silence for so long Sherlock was so startled he actually jumped at the sound of John’s voice.

“Right then. Strip.”

“What?”

“You heard me, stip. Down to your pants. Now.” John was still staring, hard, at Sherlock. There was no amusement, no smirk, no lopsided smile. Nothing. Sherlock slowly slipped his coat off, then his jacket and shirt. He leaned down to untie his shoes in total silence. Soon his trousers joined the pile of discarded clothes in a heap in the middle of their sitting room. “Right, now I want you to bring me the rest of it.”

Sherlock gaped at John, he couldn’t be serious? “John, I really-”

“I’m done playing your games Sherlock. We’re doing this my way. I want to you to bring me every single millimeter and gram of every depressant, stimulant and narcotic you are hiding in this flat now. Or so help me…” John’s whole body clenched with restrained violence. 

Sherlock nodded several times before suddenly bursting into action. Folders were shuffled, cousins moved and split open. Billy was flipped upside down and cigarettes were retrieved from within. Sherlock disappeared into his bedroom for a few moments before returning to the table to dump his backup supplies in front of John. 

“Is this all of it?” John asked quietly.

“Y-Yes. Not including my nicotine patches, this is everything.”

“Right.” John turned and kneels down in front of the fireplace and began to build up some kindling and old newspaper to start a fire. 

Sherlock shivered. “J-John?”

“I asked you to strip so I could be sure you hadn’t pocketed any. I’m sorry Sherlock but at this point I don’t trust you.” John signed as the fire leapt to life and began happily hissing and spitting as it consumed the newspaper. John rose to his feet and swept up the vials into his arms. He marched into their bathroom and the sounds of glass smashing was unmistakable. 

Sherlock winced.   

After a moment John returned and angrily snatched the rest of the illicit items on the table into his arms before dumping them into to fire. Plastic bags and all.

“You will not touch, inject, swallow or snort a single item that could even be loosely called recreational from now on. Do you understand me Sherlock?”

Sherlock could feel the hot wetness of his tears as they fell down his face, he gasped and nodded. 

“I want to hear you say it.”

“I swear, John… I won’t. I pr-promise.”

John turned away from the fire and looked at his best friend. “I read the thumb drive.”

Sherlock’s mind spun wildly, “What?”

“I read it all.” John stated again and reached into his pocket. “And I kept it.”

“But the fire? I saw you…”

“Ah, you see but do not observe. Sleight of hand? Used it to pick up- well… You know.” John sighed and turned the thumb drive over and over in his hands. “We can’t… I have to…” John shook himself and placed the USB on the table where Sherlock’s drugs had been moments before.

“I spoke with Mycroft. We have a plan for Mary. He’s…  _ Helping _ . But I have a part to play, and I need to protect my daughter.” John looked up, he’d been staring down at the thumb-drive the whole time.

“I understand.” Sherlock’s voiced cracked and he quickly reached up to wipe his eyes and take a deep breath.

“No, you don’t. Mycroft had arranged for me to meet up with you, after Mary had been dealt with. We didn’t want you to know because I knew, I knew you would have wanted to stay and protect me. But it was my turn, Sherlock. Now Moriarty is back and that’s changed the game. Now, I think we need to work together. We can’t keep hiding secrets from each other.” John took a few steps towards Sherlock.

Sherlock blinked rapidly, “You were going to meet me?”

“Of course I was you idiot. How could you think? Did you really think after Mary bloody shot you that I would go back to her? That I could forgive her? For real? You really are an idiot.” John chuckled softly and then he stepped even closer and put his arms around Sherlock, hugging him, holding him.

“Oh, god… John… I’m sorry.” Sherlock’s naked arms snacked around John’s chest and pulled him even tighter against him.

“I… hmm… I’m no good at this, Sherlock. You know I lo-... You know how much I care about you. You- Shit.” John pressed his nose into Sherlock’s hair and just  _ breathed _ . John could feel Sherlock’s wet cheek press against his ear, his tears tickled and tracked cold river down his neck. “Sherlock… I...”

“John, oh… Me too. God, since you shot that cabbie, I…” Sherlock shook, he was cold standing in the middle of their sitting room in nothing but his pants but he finally had John Watson in his arms and it was the simultaneously the best and worst moment in his entire life. 

“I want to take you to bed.” John whispered into Sherlock’s ear, “So badly, but I can’t. Not yet.”

Sherlock’s knees nearly gave out, “Why?”

“You’re still high, I’m still married, I might be a lot of things but an adulterer I am not. I made vows and if nothing else I’d like to believe I’m a man of my word.” John’s hands which had been sliding up and down Sherlock’s naked back came together and after a few twists of his wrists John started to pull back. Sherlock let him, he had slipped off his wedding band and was holding it in his right hand. 

Sherlock had never hated an inanimate object more in his life, then his eyes noticed the ring was shinier on the inside than the outside, his words from their first case together suddenly filled his mind; ‘The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger. State of the marriage right there.’

“You regularly remove it.” 

“I hate the way it feels.”

“John…” Sherlock starts but John shakes his head. 

“We’re in this together, alright? Just you and me against the rest of the world. We know now, we’re clear on how we… Feel about each other? We know what we need to do to make us and my daughter safe?” John sighs and runs his left hand through his hair, causing it to slick back slightly. He hasn’t washed it in a few days, hasn’t felt like could get clean even if he scrubbed his skin until it burned red. 

Sherlock smirked, “You should wear your hair like that more often.”

John laughed, “I’d have to put product in my hair.”

“I think it would suit you.”


End file.
